


Lovely

by Luiselena



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Sexual Situations, Breathplay, Choking, Chubby OFC, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Explicit Language, F/M, Hvitserk and Sigurd are jerks, I'm trying to redeem this boi after the all the shit hi's done., Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Modern Era, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Plus-Sized Reader, Pop Culture, Possessive Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Sexual Fantasy, Student Reader, Teacher Hvitserk, Teacher Ivar, Teacher-Student Relationship, There is going to be smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wheelchairs, as modern as I can make this, creative sexual positions in the future, don't know how to tag, hardcore pining, if I manage to get that far..., possessive Ivar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 09:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luiselena/pseuds/Luiselena
Summary: Ivar is a teacher at a prestigious university. Feared and mocked by his students, he doesn't care about hallway gossip.Until he falls in lust for one unlikely girl, that awakens something inside him that he never thought could be there.The meddling of his family pushes Ivar to a breaking point, battling with morals and self-esteem issues. But in the end, He is a Lothbrok, and he has to have the girl.Teacher!Ivar/Student!ReaderIvar/Plus-sized!Reader





	1. There she was, a pretty cross ironically around her neck.

She was running late, _as usual_. Her best friend and room-mate, Astrid, was sick with the flu so after helping her for the day she finally made it to the campus.

It was the first week of the semester, so all the professors were given introductions and directions for the rest of the course. Being the nerd that she is, she wouldn't miss it.

That day in specific, the first subject was _socio-anthropology of the paganism in modern Europe._ Not exactly the type of content she would like to know, but it gave a lot of credits for future courses references. Especially since the professor behind it is Ivar Lothbrok, or The Boneless, as some cruel students call him.

One of the most respected and valued contributors to the university. He was known as the hardest professors in all campus. At 30 years old, he had already made a name for himself.

He was a strict, condescending, stubborn son of a peach. His family was royalty and rich, which fuelled his reputation. It also had to do about his legs. A condition he was born with. He was a cripple.

She had never met him, just caught small glimpses of him. But she was excited about the challenge that he represented.

It was 5 min past 8 when she arrived at the classroom assigned. Transpiring and heaving like a disaster, she was chubby and plump  _and Seriously out of shape_ , so it was not a surprise.

Whipping the sweat that had formed around her mouth and forehead, she checked her clothes and hair, she didn't want to make a bad first impression, despite the tardiness.

The hallways were already half empty. So she knocked softly on the heavy door, scared of disturbing. There was no reply, so she knocked again, this time a bit harder.

Suddenly the door  _slid_ open, with a swift mechanic sound. She swallowed the knot in her throat and stepped inside. It was a big, massive room. The first thing she noticed was him.

Sitting in an imposing oak chair, more like a throne,  _hello there Professor Xavier_. He was not what she expected, he was... Regal and intimidating. He was so handsome.

His hair was long, brushing his broad shoulders. He was muscular and lean, which clearly showed despite his three-piece suit. His face was straight out of a Jane Austen novel (elegant and rough) and was frowning and glaring _at her._

With a hand casually resting on the big oak desk in front of him, he motioned for her to go towards him, while the other hand supported his chin in a hasty manner.

She was frozen to the spot, his movement woke her out of daydreaming. And then she noticed the 50 plus students watching avidly from theirs sits, eager to see one of Professor Lothbrok's famous verbal smack downs, just her luck.

Already annoyed, Mr. Lothbrok tapped his knuckles hard against the wood, calling for her attention. She focused on him again. He motioned one more time. This time she moved.

The room was quite as if empty. She could only hear her own laboured breathing,  not form running any more, but from the panic coursing through her now.

She stopped two steps away from his desk and grabbed the fabric of her leggings at the sides of her thighs as a lifeline. Feeling self-conscious about the way she looked, he was wearing a suit for God's sake, and she was in leggings, Converse and a pullover big enough to swallow her that said  _“May the 4th be with you” ..._ it was September.

And her hair,  **Yeezus** **s,** her hair was a mess of curls going in all directions, collected in a bun at the top on her head. And to add to that, she had zero makeup on, not even the thing she did to her eyebrows to make them look fuller. Hopefully, her glasses covered that.

The way he was scrutinizing her made her feel naked and judged. She wanted to cry and crawl into a hole. And he hadn't even spoken a word.

“I see we have a late bunny this semester... what would be your excuse?” His voice was so melodic and had the Scandinavian accent that added to his personality. 

“None, sir...” Her father was a strict man too, and she knew that excuses only made things worst in any case.

He blinked in surprise but quickly disguised it behind a chuckle, a really attractive chuckle. Thinking about it, all the chit chat going around about him depicted him as a monster and a horrible man, that's why she imagined him as an ugly slob. But that was so far from the truth. Everybody and their mother had a crush on Professor Hvitserk (his older brother), why didn't they have one on Ivar? Were they so shallow and superficial? 

“Alright then, move along and find somewhere to sit... Miss?” She whispered her name and walked away, awkward as she was always, not looking back. Scared of him changing his mind and kicking her out.

Climbing the stairs she found an empty seat at the very back of the room, trying her hardest not to look at anyone's face. There was a tall and robust guy right in front of her, providing some cover. 

“Next time, I want you sitting in the front and center of the room, that means you have to be punctual.” He spoke while tipping something in his laptop, not looking up, but she supposed it was directed to her, so she answered with a loud and clear “Yes, sir.” 

He grabbed a control remote and touched a button, with another swift sound the door of the classroom shut close, the lights went slowly down and then a projector from the ceiling turned on. From his comfortable throne, Professor Lothbrok started the lesson of the day, managing everything from his computer and remote. 

The introduction to the subject was boring as hell, but somehow Professor Lothbrok found a way to make it interesting and informative. She learned a lot just by listening to him talk, writing as many notes as she possibly could. Her laptop died last semester, and she had to pay residential fees so there was no money for a new one, everybody else had one. The fast typing sounds were deafening.

When the lesson was over, she gathered her things quickly and tried to mingle with the multitude of students leaving the classroom, she was mortified still. Then Ivar called her name.

“Since you like to make memorable first impressions, I expect you to be the most competent student in my class, from now on.”

Oh, boy...


	2. Like a punch and a kiss

Ivar was a tortured boy, who became a difficult man. Fuelled by resentment and rage.

Sometimes love drives people to do unimaginable things, sometimes it's ruthless, it leaves bruises and scars, it takes without permission and gives fire and ashes in return. That's how he loved. Taking everything he could.

He was intrigued by her, at first. Such a difference between her and all the girls he'd meet throughout his life. Quite, shy and her own kind of introvert. And just her was different, her face was so inviting with soft pale skin, big bright eyes rimmed by long lashes, her nose, and Cupid's bow were worthy of being in Greek sculptures, and the lips that followed... Fantasy inducing, plump and carnal, just like the rest of her.

He studied her fine and delicate neck, her heavy breasts, chubby belly, and wide, meaty hips. Her button, so round and full, and he could never stop appreciating her thick thighs, her perfect calves, delicate ankles and cute little feet. Her hands were one of his favourite things, long and elegant fingers, slim in spite of the weight she carried.

All of this he could describe as an expert would a piece of art because he just couldn't stop looking at her. All the time, everywhere and anyway he could.

**He was obsessed.**

Her body called to him. But the soul in her eyes made him mad with desire. He wanted to own everything about her. He was going to own it. That beauty. But he was a monster.

Slave to a disease that made him less, or so he'd thought years ago. Before she showed up on his class like a hurricane. He'd refused to go to therapy, he dreaded being vulnerable and at the mercy of strangers.

It changed when he saw her. Across the campus, in all her delicate innocence.

So he changed his mind, went to physical therapy and made the decision to stand on both of his legs without help, so he could be the man he needed to be, for himself and for her.

His brothers noticed the shift of his moods. The constant anger and resentment towards the world didn't go away, it intensified and was now encouraged by an obsession. Ubbe was concerned, after the incident with Margaret, Ivar had turned distant from the family. And now he was acting more mysterious and threatening.

But Sigurd, the only one that attended the University the same days as Ivar, knew about the girl that had Ivar twisted in a knot. So Sigurd did what he always does, fuck with his little brother's anger issues.

On a casual day, he waited with Ivar by the fountain in the main entrance to the Student's Hall. The girl always sat near it around that time of the day, close to lunchtime. She would open up a book and read, or was fixated with a weird notebook made of old leather and wrote gods-knows-what in it.

Ivar loved that time of the day, he could watch her without inhibitions, without having the distraction of the classroom. She was so absorbed by whatever she was doing that the world around her seemed to fade. He'd seen a rogue paper ball accidentally hit her in the head, and she didn't seem to feel it bounce off of her.

When Sigurd suddenly decided to sit with him, “let's spend some time together, brother,” the stupidest excuse ever, he knew something was off. His relationship with Sigurd had never been normal, ruled mostly by competition and rivalry. So he tensed and rolled his shoulders, like a predator ready to strike. Alert to any threat.

She walked out of the building, looking like classic royalty, the way Ivar saw her. She wore simply faded jeans, a grey T-shirt that read **_“P.s.y.c.h.o.s”_** with black “friends” font, the word stretched across her chest. Wearing a pair of white flip-flops that showed her little toes painted in electric blue nail polish, he searched her hands to see if the colour matched there too _(it never did_ ) this time it was a lilac pastel colour. He noted that she was carrying a mountain of books, papers, and notebooks in one hand, the other had a thermic cup, keys, a charger, and a cheap looking cellphone. On top of all that she had a backpack hanging from a shoulder and a red-and-black squares bottom-up shirt tied around her wide waist.

When Ivar finally focused on her face, pale and tired with purple surrounding her eyes, her hair in a ponytail and no makeup on her face. She was suddenly missing a step of the stairs.

He stood up using one crunch, ready to run and catch her. But Sigurd pushed him down to sit again and rushed to her. The bastard. He reached her and straighten her on her feet, one hand on her back and the other on her waist. Ivar wanted to smash those hands with the blacksmith's hammer he used in his shed during his free time.

They exchanged a few words, she blushed a pretty shade of red and drew away from Sigurd. Ivar was ready to pounce into action, hating the cold feeling that the scene in front of him caused in his chest like he was going to lose her before she was even his...

He made a quick decision, standing back up and rushing towards them, ignoring every voice in his mind that told him not to come out of hiding, that he was still an ugly disfigured monster, that she was going to reject him, *not good enough*, his thoughts screamed.

But enough was enough, he'd been dancing around her all damn year, all his work and effort had to be rewarded at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again. I don't know where this is going.


	3. Should wear a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut... *hides under a rock*
> 
>  
> 
> Oh! And also Choking/Breath play....

“A girl like you should wear a warning sign,” he whispered while looking at the ceiling, his arms wrapped around me, holding me against him.

My body went still, my breath skipped.

“Maybe a tattoo will do it,” he kept talking, and a shiver made its way down my spine “it'll read 'Caution, you might fall in love with me' “

My breath caught in my chest and I tightened the hold I had around his lean waist. “You should get one too...” I whispered.

He growled and in a flash, I was under him. He opened my legs wide open, accommodated his hips between them and with a gentle nudge he pushed his cock inside me.

I gasped and clenched my inner walls around him. “Ivar!” He groaned, the sexual sound coming from his chest.

He didn't give me the chance to get used to the feeling of our union, restlessly pounding me, hips snapping like crazy, the sound so vulgar and filthy it made me wetter. “So good, such a good pussy...” He dirty talked.

I blushed and turned my face away, hiding in the pillows. He didn't like that. One hand suddenly grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head around, twisting so I was looking at him directly in the eyes.

“Yeah, that's more like it baby. Look at me while I fuck you.”

One of my hands found a way to his hair and the other grasped his forearm, his eyes looking with intensity the place where we were joined. “Perfect for me,  **only for me**. My cock fits inside of you like we're made by design.”

I was lost in the paradise of the pleasure he was giving me when the sensation stopped abruptly I cried in protest. He manoeuvred my body like I weighed nothing, such was the strength of his upper body. He positioned me the way he wanted, laying on my side with one leg extended and the other lifted up and over his hip, he was now kneeling over me.

Ivar was so cocky, he knew how much it affected me,  ** _he affected me_**. I grasped the bedsheets and braced when I felt the head of his cock on my entrance again. “You are going to feel me  **so deep** inside of you, baby. You're going to stop doubting me, and yourself, once and for all.”

It wasn't fair that even when I wasn't thinking about it, he could figure out the thoughts of my subconscious. We have been going on and on, in circles, him not believing me and me not believing him. We just couldn't seem to understand the desire we had for each other.

"Honey..." I whispered, trying not to cry as he pushed in, filling me up with so much of him. I was so shy, I had no idea what to do in this type of moments, do I stay quiet or do I follow along with his mood?

Thankfully, I didn't need to do much. Ivar had a dominant complex, he put a hand on the bed for support, right by my head. And then he wrapped the other one around my neck and tighten his grip slowly.

My head started pounding from the lack of oxygen, almost in sync with the movement of his trusts. I was completely exposed in this position, he could see every inch of me. And Ivar has a way of looking at your eyes... You'll feel it in your soul. The easy he was looking at me at the moment.

I had been self-conscious about my body all life, not just that. My face, my hair, my nose, the fat in my arms, the chub of my thighs. And my personality, I was a fuck up, I could make you laugh and the next second I could fight you for the stupidest thing. My defense mechanism, pushing people away before they get tired of me or worst... Feel sorry for the sad, fat, ugly girl.

But with him it was different, it was all upside down, he didn't believe the fact that I loved him, that I desire him. So we fought with fangs and claws... And then I made him laugh, not the sadistic smile he showed everybody else, but truthful laughter that sounded like happiness  _if happiness was a sound._

 ** _He was laughing while we kissed, again and again. Nothing could compare to the taste of his laugh in my mouth._** That was the first time.

Now here we were, sharing our bodies, giving our souls to one another.  And I was falling in love... falling for all the little things that were him, the details, the special moments. With all of it. I was in love with life... And with him.

His hand wrapped around my neck tightened up slowly until I couldn't breath any more, then sweet ecstasy invaded me when he loosened his hold.

"The air in your lungs is mine, each breath you take belong to me..."

Such scandalous words whispered in the death of night, aroused me so much. I could only mewl and pant like a whore for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this, but I felt the need to start and finish something without overthinking too much. This is mostly a way to start writing again, I'm currently working on the other fics that I haven't finish. 
> 
> Please comment if this is somehow readable...


End file.
